Celia's Puppies

By Claudia Hall Christian

Celia Marlowe believed people blossom with loving support and resources. Over the course of her life, she gathered those who needed her special brand of love. Now, nine years after her death, Celia’s puppies are facing themselves and their lives.

Exciting, heart warming, and always fun, Celia’s Puppies is the second installment of Denver Cereal. An internet sensation, Denver Cereal is a serial fiction grounded in Uptown Denver, Colorado.

Crunchy, sweet and always addicting – you deserve a little Denver Cereal in your life.

Praise for Celia’s Puppies:

“As I started to read the book I was instantly hooked (I read this book in 2 days!!). I found myself intertwined in all of the various characters lives and wanting more.” – Crystal from Thrifty & Frugal Living

“Celia’s Puppies is the perfect blend of romance, mystery and suspense all rolled into one. This book is very light and descriptive which makes each of the characters easy to fall in love with.” – Kristina at Peaches Reviews & Giveaways

“I got hooked on the characters and what was going on in their lives first, and then a few chapters into the book the mystery and suspense kicked in and that is when I found myself unable to put it down! I love it when a book grabs a hold of my interest and won’t let me go, and Celia’s Puppies definitely rose to the occasion.” – Mary at Mommyologist

“An easy read filled with entertainment on every page. It was easy to get caught in the story.” – Jennee from Cheap Therapy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cook Street Publishing
• Release date: Feb 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9780982274675

Claudia Hall Christian

Claudia Hall Christian writes stories about good people caught in difficult situations. Her stories are addictive, heart pounding, and intense. She is the author of the Alex the Fey thriller series, the Queen of Cool, the Seth and Ava Mysteries, Suffer a Witch, Abee Normal Paranormal Investigations, and the longest consecutive serial fiction ever written, Denver Cereal. She lives in Denver where she keeps bees, gardens, hangs out with her Plott Hounds, and husband

Book preview

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Going to be a good day

Monday morning — 4:00 a.m.

Sitting on her meditation bolster, Delphie let out a breath and bowed forward. A half hour of prayer would have to do this morning. Not for the first time, Delphie longed for the days when she had the entire Castle to herself. But then, Sam wouldn’t be asleep in her bed, and the kids wouldn’t be home. Things were better now.

She just needed more time to herself.

With care, she put out the candles but left her incense burning for Quan Yin. Smoothing her wild bottle-red hair in the mirror, she realized she was lying to herself.

She didn’t need more time to herself.

She missed Celia.

Celia would love how things turned out. She would have teased Mike about his confusion over Valerie. Celia would spoil Katy to no end. Delphie could just see Celia in a corner of the dining room, laughing with Jill and Sandy. Celia would revel in Jacob stepping into himself.

And Aden! Who would believe that drunken criminal Aden Norsen would turn into gentleman Aden?

Of course, Celia always believed in Aden, Blane, Jill, and the others too. Delphie called them Celia’s puppies — the people Celia collected like lost puppies, the ones whose lives really changed with loving support.

Delphie never had that kind of faith in people. Celia was special. She could see into people’s souls and see what they could be. Not that she was always right. After all, Tiffanie’s oldest daughter gave only misery in return for the resources and love she was given.

Moving toward the bed, Delphie sighed. She’d give up Sam to have Celia back. It would be hard because she cared deeply for Sam. But she’d do almost anything to have Celia back.

Delphie sat down on the bed next to Sam. He opened his eyes and touched her hair.

It’s a little after four, Delphie said. You should work on getting up.

I’m sorry our chaos has interrupted your meditation, Sam said. You have clients today, don’t you?

Delphie gave a slight nod.

Sad? he asked. He sat up to hold her.

Missing Celia.

Sam and Delphie held each other and cried. In each other’s arms, neither was afraid or ashamed to express the depth of their loss.

We need to get moving, Delphie said after a moment. The kids are here, and . . .

She moved off the bed, but Sam caught her hand.

Everyone can take care of themselves, Delphie, Sam said. I know it’s exciting. It’s exciting for me. But we are all we have now, Delphinium.

Delphie sniffed and then sat back down. Sam wrapped himself around her. For a moment, she allowed herself to rest in his strength.

Why don’t you continue meditating? Sam whispered. I can make the coffee.

But . . .

Your coffee is much better. You’re right, Sam said. Your clients take so much from you. I take so much from you. I’d like it if you took care of yourself. For me.

He touched her chin, and she looked up at him.

We’ve made it to the other side of nine years of garbage. I’d like to spend some years enjoying the peace and you.

Me, too, Delphie said. And the kids.

And their kids, Sam said. Our grandkids and great-grandkids.

Your kids. Your grandkids. Your great-grandkids.

They’ve always been our kids. Yours, mine, and Celia’s kids. Sam kissed her cheek. You must really miss her today.

Delphie gave another slight nod. She stood so that he could get out of bed. He was halfway across the room before he turned.

I’m deeply grateful for you, Delphinium. Thank you for the gift of this second life — and your love.

Her eyes welled.

Go on, she said. Delaying the inevitable . . .

Only creates another mess — they said one of Celia’s sayings together. Laughing, Sam went into the bathroom.

Delphie returned to her bay-window meditation nook. Relighting the candles, she noticed the paparazzi arriving for another day of stalking Valerie. A picture of Valerie’s husband was worth at least couple hundred thousand dollars to these scavengers. Not that they were going to get one.

Delphie smiled.

It was going to be a good day.

~~~~~~~~

Monday morning — 6:30 a.m.

Outside Chicago, Illinois

A small woman began jogging down the driveway of her estate home with a few of her dogs. No matter what her hectic schedule demanded, she loved the early-morning quiet with her dogs. They settled into a steady jog down the driveway. Turning onto the quiet lane in front of her home, she heard a sound behind her.

Boots on the pavement.

Like something out of a movie, she could hear at least five people running in boots behind her. And they were fast.

Turning to look, she saw a group of short-haired men wearing military green T-shirts, digital fatigue pants, and tactical boots running toward her. One man was running in the very middle of this pack.

As they approached, her dog pack skittered uncomfortably. These men were twice her size, fit and muscular. Her mind shifted to the horror stories her guests had told on her own talk show. Glancing around, she realized how alone, how vulnerable, she was.

The men caught up with her and then slowed their pace to match hers.

Would you mind if we take your dogs? a fresh-faced young man asked.

I . . .

The General would like a private conversation, a second man said. We won’t harm them. Just take them so that you might talk.

Before she could say anything, the young man reached for the leashes. She was about to call her dogs back when she caught sight of the man in the center of the pack. Stunned, she stopped running.

Standing in the middle of the quiet lane, she gawked at the US Army General.

Shall we continue? the General asked.

Each young man took a dog. They separated out into a large circle, giving the woman and the General just enough space for a quiet conversation. When the General started running again, she joined his jogging pace.

I wanted to have a private word with you about Michael Roper, the General said. It’s my understanding that you’ll interview him this week.

Yes, sir, she replied.

She cursed herself for not reviewing her schedule before leaving the house. In her mind, she flipped through her interviews and shows planned for this week.

Who was Michael Roper?

He’s going to tell you a story that . . . well, could win you a Pulitzer Prize.

But it’s not true?

No, ma’am. Michael Roper will tell you a true story and one that needs to be heard, especially at this time. However . . .

The General fell silent. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.

Sir?

I don’t doubt that you’ll notice that a few details in Roper’s story are . . . fuzzy.

Fuzzy?

Unclear. I’m certain you’ll notice he’s covering something up or possibly diverting your attention. He’s not an experienced liar. We expect you might notice areas of . . .

Sir?

Michael Roper is a true hero. He saved the lives of at least seven men and possibly more. He suffered unspeakable things during his service, and he has never asked for acclaim or reward. In fact, he says he was just doing his job. His story is absolutely one hundred percent true, even if the details are a little muddy.

You’re asking me to broadcast untruths? Her voice betrayed her indignation.

The General stopped running. The group of men and dogs stopped running. A bird’s call broke the sudden silence in the lane. He turned to look at her.

No, I’m asking you to treat a true hero with the respect he deserves. He’s not a public speaker or even a very good poker player. He’s too straight of a guy. His story is true and deserves to be heard.

And these details?

Are sensitive.

You’re saying he’s been coached. I’ll notice the coaching because he’s such a straightforward guy.

The General started running again. They ran in silence while she processed his request.

I won’t throw national security at you. However, I would not be asking this if people’s lives were not at stake, he said. We can pull the interview. There was a suggestion to disrupt the satellite feed during your transmission of the show. A few well-placed individuals, including myself, would like the world to hear Roper’s story.

With the details removed?

"With a few details removed."

And the satellite feed? I don’t want to interview some guy and have it not go out.

A few high-level people have used their authority to allow the interview with . . .

A few details removed. She finished his sentence.

Exactly. These people will be with Roper when you do the interview. You might notice them, but probably not.

If I do this, will you come onto my show? she asked. Talk about the war? The soldiers?

You’ve asked before.

I’ve asked for five years, she said.

Treat Roper with the respect he deserves, and I’ll seriously consider it.

She nodded.

I need to get back to the desert, the General said. Do we have an agreement?

Yes, sir, she said.

The General gave a low whistle, and the soldiers closed the circle. Within moments, she was holding the leashes of her dogs. Before they were out of earshot, she shouted:

Sir?

The General stopped running and turned in her direction.

Who is Michael Roper? she yelled.

He’s married to Valerie Lipson, he said. Laughing, he added, Enjoy your Pulitzer.

The men picked up the pace. Within moments, she was alone on the quiet lane. She ran for another mile and then turned for home. Arriving home, her dog trainer took the dogs to feed and water them. She was about to head upstairs when she saw something slip under her front door.

Picking it up, she ripped open the manila envelope to find a single sheet of paper. Near the bottom, scrawled in a man’s handwriting, was a note that said: For background on Roper. The sheet contained ten names with the home phone numbers and private email addresses of top-level people in government or retired military. There was even a curator at the Denver Art Museum. One name was someone she had begged to interview. More than once.

Looks like Valerie Lipson’s secret husband was more interesting than she’d thought.

~~~~~~~~

Monday morning — 8:12 a.m.

Ouch! Shit, Blane, Jacob said. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?

Blane was inserting acupuncture needles around Jacob’s sutures. When he wasn’t working as Jacob’s assistant, Blane was a student at the Colorado School of Traditional Chinese Medicine, where he was a star pupil. Three years into a Chinese Medical Doctor degree, he had spent the last week researching the right herbs, salves and points to accelerate Jacob’s healing.

Yeah ’cuz, Blane said with the mock Hispanic accent he used to drive Jacob crazy. Dees guy, he said to try dees thing, and I figured . . .

This hurts, Jacob said.

You could just take your pain medication, Aden said.

Fuck you, too, Jacob said to Aden.

Aden laughed at Jacob. They were sitting in a small office at the Castle. They had spent the morning making sure every site manager had what he or she needed to get the job done today. Lipson Construction was humming like a well-oiled engine.

Except for its President, Jacob Marlowe.

Although healing, his week-old shoulder injury and multiple surgeries had left him at half his capacity. Blane thought acupuncture might help accelerate his healing. Or at least ease some of the desperate pain.

Hi, Jill said. She poked her head in the door. Am I interrupting?

Not if you’ve heard a few swear words before, Aden said. He opened the door for Jill. I’m going to check on my kids. I’ll be back in a few.

Katy wanted to say goodbye before she went to school, Jill said. She came into the room carrying three-year-old, Katy on her hip. Pointing to the hundreds of needles in Jacob’s shoulder and neck, she added, Oooh, that doesn’t look good.

Mommy? He’s touching the white stuff, Katy said.

The gauze? Jill asked.

Uh, huh. Uncle Blane? Do you know what you’re doing?

Good question, Jacob said.

Hi, sweetie, Blane said. He came around the chair to kiss Katy on the cheek. I’m trying to help your . . .

Daddy, Jacob said.

Blane beamed like the Cheshire Cat. He had been after Jacob about Katy since Trevor had abandoned them. He knew what it was like to be abandoned. And he didn’t want anything bad to happen to sweet Katy.

I’m helping your Daddy get better.

My Daddy needs help, Katy said.

Yes, he does, Jacob said.

Jacob held his left arm out, and Jill set Katy in his lap. Katy gently hugged him. She kissed his cheek.

I have to go to school, Katy said.

See you this afternoon, Jacob said.

Holding Jill’s hand, Katy was almost to the door when she ran back. She climbed onto Jacob’s lap and whispered into his ear. Jacob flushed, held her close and kissed her cheek. She jumped off his lap and ran to Jill. Jill picked her up. Katy waved goodbye before Jill closed the door behind them.

What was that? Blane asked. He returned to putting needles into Jacob.

She said she loved me. Jacob’s eyes filled. It’s like a dream.

I told you. She’s a great kid, Blane said. Okay, one more. That should . . .

Jacob felt a whoosh of relief. His pain had all but vanished.

Wow.

They’re both great girls, Blane said. You’re a lucky son of a bitch.

I know. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and . . . Jacob said. God, Blane — that’s great.

We’ll keep them in for twenty minutes or so, Blane said. Then we’ll do it again this afternoon. When we can, we’ll start some of the salves on those scars.

Thanks, Blane. Really.

Well, shit, Jacob, Blane said. You’ve paid for my school, taken care of me when I’m sick . . . This is the least I can do.

You’re family, Jacob said.

Speaking of family, Blane said, your stepsister is waiting to see you. Sorry — I told her it would be a while. Then I forgot her.

Which stepsister?

Honey. The awful one is in Thailand. I made sure she and that tool got on the plane myself, Blane said. His face flushed bright red with rage. Bitch. Can you believe . . .

Getting angry only makes you sick. Jacob put his hand on Blane’s forearm. Did Dad give you the divorce papers?

No, I have them, Aden said coming back into the room. No anger, Blane.

Blane nodded. He walked to the window to calm down. The Hepatitis C virus had so injured his liver, that every time he got enraged, he got very sick.

Promise me that’s going to happen for me, Blane said. What you have with Jill . . . what Aden has with Sandy . . . that’s going to happen for me.

Celia said when you were better, you would find love, Jacob said.

And you?

What would I know? Jacob shrugged as if he didn’t know what Blane was talking about.

Fuck you, Jacob Marlowe, Blane said. You have this gift and you won’t share it?

Sorry — force of habit, Jacob said. I don’t know how to describe what I see. I see you with a family that is your family. Children, love, and very happy. But I also see you not sick. No HIV. No Hep C. Nothing.

So it will happen? Blane said.

Aden put his hand on Blane’s shoulder. Blane turned to look at him.

He’s saying you will find love and more, Aden said. But first, we have to get you well. No anger.

Blane nodded his head.

Family problem number one? Honey Lipson. Or family problem number two? Your father’s ridiculous divorce papers, Blane asked.

Is Dad still here? Jacob asked.

I’ll get him, Blane said. Should I get Honey?

Let’s talk to her when Dad’s here, Jacob said. Is she . . .

She’s been crying, Blane said. She seems very upset.

Family problem number one. Jacob nodded.

Coming up, Blane said.

~~~~~~~~

Coming back from dropping Katy off, Jill pressed open the side door. The Castle buzzed with activity and various Lipson employees. She looked longingly at the apartment door but turned into the Castle living room. She was supposed to . . .

She stopped walking. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Time for a mental list.

Laundry first. Move out? She grimaced. She and Jacob had argued about it last night and this morning. She thought she should return to her apartment. Jacob begged her to stay.

Jill sighed.

Groceries? No, they have groceries delivered. Val asked her to . . . God, rich people live in some foreign land. Who knew that groceries could be delivered?

List of groceries! That’s right! Val had asked her to make a grocery list.

She was meeting Sandy at her condo in . . . Jill glanced at her watch. She was meeting Sandy in three hours for a girl’s day of hairstyling and . . .

Excuse me, a woman wearing inexpensive but professional dress said. Are you Jill? Jillian Roper?

I am, Jill said.

Lawyer? No, Jacob’s lawyers were expensive. They’d wear better shoes.

Oh, great. Mr. Marlowe said you were coming back . . .

Here I am, Jill said. Jill smiled at the woman.

The woman’s voice was professional but a little rude. Maybe she was a lawyer.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Patti, the woman said. I work in Human Resources at Lipson Construction? Mr. Marlowe has some papers for you to sign.

Papers?

Insurance papers? For you and Katherine?

Insurance?

The woman blinked, blushed, and then said, You have no idea what I’m talking about or who I am.

Jill shook her head.

Patti laughed. She put her hand on Jill’s arm.

We had this idea . . . Mr. Marlowe’s never even dated anyone, Patti said. Then all of a sudden, there’s a girl and child and well . . . When Blane told us to get this together, well, we thought . . .

Gold digger? Jill asked.

Please don’t tell him. He’ll be furious, Patti said. Is he really adopting your daughter?

He wants to, Jill said.

He’s great with kids. He’s like an uncle to all the Lipson kids. He stops by the school to read to them at least once a week. Will Katy go to the school?

What school?

Let’s start by getting these papers signed.

Insurance?

Health, dental, life, extended care, Patti said. For you and Katherine.

Patti looked at Jill’s confused face and then smiled.

Do you have a cell phone?

A cell phone?

Mr. Marlowe has a new phone for you, Patti said. Come on. I’ll explain everything.

~~~~~~~~

Monday morning — 9:00 a.m.

You wanted to see me? Jacob asked.

In an attempt to look like he was working, he was sitting behind a desk. The acupuncture needles had zonked him out. Aden was sitting in a chair next to him, and Blane was standing behind him. Sam Lipson was standing to the side of the desk. If Jacob fell over, he was pretty sure one of them would catch him.

"You have no right! No right at all! Honey said. She was standing in front of the desk. I . . . I . . ."

Honey dropped back into a chair to cry. Even though she looked like her mother and older sister, Honey Lipson was a totally different creature. There was no air or pretense about her. She was wearing blue jeans, work boots, and a button-down blue shirt with Lipson Construction stitched on the pocket. Her white-blond hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail.

What happened? Sam put his hand on her shoulder. Honey, we don’t have any idea what’s going on. Can you tell us?

Mom told us last night . . . the whole thing . . . about the trusts, I mean. She popped to her feet and loomed over the desk. "And I don’t give a crap about any trust. I don’t want your money. And just because my father is in prison and my mother is an idiot and my sister is a jerk. None of that has anything to do with me. You can’t fire me because of them!"

Fire you? Jacob asked. Who fired you?

"You did! Honey screamed. And it’s so unfair! I’ve worked really hard and I’m really good on the roads. Everyone likes me. And I’m not giving the name back!"

She crossed her arms and plopped back down in the chair.

Dad? Jacob asked. Sam shook his head.

Aden? Jacob asked.

Aden shrugged. Jacob knew Aden had been against hiring Honey when she graduated from high school. But Honey had proved to be a great employee. She worked hard, never complained, and had become integral part of a road team. Jacob squinted his eyes at Aden to ask if Aden had fired her while Jacob was in the hospital. Aden shook his head.

Blane?

Jacob turned to see Blane looking at Honey as if she were insane. Blane had had such bad experiences with the step-whore that he refused to speak to Honey.

Honey, we don’t have any idea what’s going on, Jacob said. This is my first day back. Can you slow down and tell us what’s going on?

Oh, Honey said. You don’t?

The men shook their heads at her.

Oh, Honey said again. I’m still not giving the name back. Sam’s the only Dad I ever had.

Okay — we have that in common, Jacob said. He’s the only Dad I’ve ever had, too.

Honey gave Jacob a watery smile.

What happened today, Honey? Sam asked. You started to tell us. Your Mom told you about the trusts last night. And . . .

I was asked to report to Human Resources. I figured I was getting fired, so I just came here. The young woman stuck her chin out in stubborn defiance. If you want to fire me, you’ll have to do it to my face.

"Oh shit! Blane exclaimed. Flipping through stack of paper, he pulled out a paper-clipped set of pages from the stack. He set the packet in front of Jacob. Sorry, Jake. It’s in the stack of papers to sign."

We haven’t figured out how to sign the papers yet. Blane gave Honey a weak smile. He can’t hold a pen, and . . .

Jacob looked at the papers.

You’ve been approved for the scholarship program, Honey. Jacob flipped through the papers. Wow! Your high school grades are excellent. I had no idea you’d done so well.

Your mom said, ‘Every day, we must work hard, take every opportunity and suck the marrow out of life,’ Honey said. I do that. Every day. Suck the marrow. But I don’t actually suck marrow out of bones. I tried that. And it was kind of gross.

Yeah, it’s gross. Jacob wrinkled his nose. Aden and Blane nodded as if they also had tried marrow sucking. You know how this works?

Honey shook her head.

I just want to go to college. And I want to pay for it myself. I mean, Mom said Dad would pay for it, but I want to do it myself. But I can’t afford it, so I applied for the scholarship. That’s like doing it yourself, isn’t it?

Very much so, Aden said. You have to work full time and go to school. I mean, it’s a lot, but that’s how I paid for college and my MBA.

Me, too, Blane said. Only Jake had the free ride.

You have to pay for the first semester. Jacob kept talking as a way of ignoring Blane’s comment, as the ride never felt very free. You can take whatever classes you want. If your grades are good — like better than a ‘B’ — we’ll reimburse you.

Oh, Honey said. I can’t pay for the first semester. I had to replace my car and my apartment . . .

I’ll give you the money, Sam said.

If you give me money, then, you’ll have to give money to . . .

I’ll do it, Valerie said. She was standing in the doorway. I’ll give you the money. And I’m okay with you keeping the name.

Honey jumped to her feet. Valerie had never spoken to her. In fact, she hadn’t ever been in the same room as her famous-actress stepsister.

"And he’s the only Dad I’ve ever had, too. Val nodded. Walking forward, she held her hand out. I’m Valerie Lipson."

Honey shook Valerie’s hand.

Thanks, Honey said.

You’re a part of the Lipson family, Val said. I . . . I’m glad to meet you . . .

Honey beamed at Valerie.

Finally, Sam said.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A huge find

Monday morning — 9:20 a.m.

In her own bed, Sandy rolled onto her back and stretched. Aden had brought her home before he’d gone to work at five that morning. Sandy climbed the stairs, and then crawled into bed, with Cleo curled up next to her. She slept like a log until her alarm went off.

Time to get up.

 She wandered through her condo apartment to the kitchen. After the last passion-filled nights, coffee was definitely in order. She started brewing a pot.

On her way to the bathroom, Sandy pressed the Play button on her blinking answering machine. Hearing her mother’s voice, she decided to shower. She was meeting Aden at the gym at 10:30 after he dropped his kids off at their therapy appointment. Sandy washed, moisturized, and blew her hair dry. She was slipping on her bathrobe when her mother’s voice stopped talking on the answering machine. Sandy flipped the machine off on her way back to the kitchen.

Taking a long drink of coffee, Sandy leaned against the kitchen counter to wait for her mother to call on her ten o’clock break.

Hi, Mom, Sandy said when she answered the call on the first ring.

Sandy! Her mother exclaimed as if they hadn’t spoken in years. How are you?

I’m good, Mom. How are you?

Worried, dear. About you, her mother said. I tried to call you this weekend . . .

I just got your messages, Sandy said.

Clogged up your machine again, her mother chuckled.

Sandy let the silence lag. Her mother called only for specific reasons. If she waited, her mother would get around to what she wanted.

Elsa called.

Her mother’s voice was breezy, but the phone line echoed a chorus of Sandy screwed up.

She said she saw you with a man at the Avenue Grill on Friday night. Do you have a new boyfriend?

Yep.

Well, Elsa said he was older than you and seemed to have a lot of money — nice watch, fancy car, paid cash. She said she walked by your table three times. She wanted to meet the man, but you never even looked up.

I don’t remember her.

Sandy took a drink of coffee. Elsa was her mother’s oldest and nosiest friend. Who knows if Elsa actually saw Sandy or if she heard it from someone else who heard it from someone who . . .

Elsa said he was holding your hand. Even through dinner! Holding your hand. She thought you were already . . . intimate with that man. You know, Sandy, a man like that dates young girls for only one thing.

What’s that, Mom?

You haven’t let him . . . touch you already, have you?

Sandy didn’t respond.

Oh, Sandy. Her mother’s voice dripped with disappointment. A man like that . . . You have to string him along. You don’t want to end up like Jill, do you?

Jill’s a wonderful person. I wouldn’t mind being exactly like Jill.

You know what I mean. Her mother’s voice dropped to a whisper. Alone with a child.

Oh. You mean like you?

Sandra. You are no match for a wealthy older man. He’s going to use you and dump you.

Maybe I’ll use him, Mom. I was thinking of spending all his money and then dumping him.

You are not very funny, young lady. What does he do?

He helps run a company, Sandy said.

That man is way out of your league. Her mother’s voice was conclusive. Men like that don’t marry girls like you.

Maybe I don’t want to get married.

Oh, Sandy. Her mother’s sorrow came through the phone lines. How will you ever have children?

The usual way, I suppose. Sorry, Mom — I’ve got to go.

I saw your father last week.

My father’s dead, Mom.

"Your real father, Sandra."

"Why